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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27998052">Slow Dancing with the Christmas Lights On</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancerlittle/pseuds/Dancerlittle'>Dancerlittle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Newsies Christmas Fics [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas Fluff, M/M, Slowing Dancing with the Christmas Lights On</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:01:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,262</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27998052</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancerlittle/pseuds/Dancerlittle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sprace fluffiness - them slow dancing in front of the Christmas Tree.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Newsies Christmas Fics [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011879</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Slow Dancing with the Christmas Lights On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>December 20, 2019</b>
</p><p>
  <b>There’s alcohol and cursing in this one</b>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a rough day, the last day before break always was. Everyone was anxious for the holiday party and not having school for two glorious weeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slamming the door behind him, he sighed, leaning against it, listening to the faint Christmas music that was playing in the kitchen. A tired smile crossed his lips as he toed off his shoes and dropped his bag and box full of goodies from his students on the bench. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking the short distance from the door to the kitchen, he gasped seeing his husband standing at the stove, a wine glass in his hand and a Santa hat on his head. “Welcome home love. And happy last day of school for the year.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling, he all but fell into Spot’s warm embrace. “Thank goodness I’m done teaching for the year. I may have nightmares about today for a while.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good thing I’ll be there to chase them away.” Spot grinned, pouring another glass of wine and handing it over. “Bad day?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Race shook his head. “Not bad per say, just really busy. The kids were excited and hyper. You know I love them but I’m really glad for the two week break.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure. It was a ghost town at the office today ‘cause everyone was at the kids programs and parties.” Spot nodded, sipping his wine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Race paused, looking at the clock as a thought occurred to him. “Not that I’m thrilled you’re home but what the hell are you doing here? You said it would be a later night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I thought.” Spot chuckled. “The bosses threw us out at 1:30 so I’ve been home for a bit. Wanted to surprise you with dinner.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sniffling the air, Race grinned. “And what’s for dinner?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your favorite.” Spot said, stepping in front of the oven, cracking open the oven door, a succulent smell escaping from inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Race groaned as his stomach followed suited. “You’re amazing, thank God I actually married you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think I was the one that asked you.” Spot chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “But you’re welcome. What do you want to do tonight?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Race took a sip, looking over at his husband. “Is it too much to ask that we sit around in our boxers and watch all the Christmas movies?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that’s what you want to do, you’ll hear no complaints from me.” Spot grinned, amused by his husband. “Should we start one now while dinner finishes cooking?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Race cheered, looking at Spot’s casualness of sweats and a hoodie. “Let me go change, since you’re two steps ahead of me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several minutes later, with the tree as the only light in their house, Race joined Spot on the couch, cuddling his head between Spot’s shoulder and chest as Spot played “How The Grinch Stole Christmas”. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>After Dinner </b>
</p><p>
  <span>They made quick work of cleaning up the kitchen, Race trying to hip check Spot every chance he got.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t make me use this.” Spot had grabbed the sink sprayer, aiming it in Race’s direction as his eyes went wide. “I won’t hesitate to spray you, Antonio.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Race’s hands went up in surrender. “Put down the sprayer. I will behave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cocking an eyebrow at him, Spot pursed his lips. “Uh huh … that’ll be the day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh ye of little faith.” Race stuck his tongue at Spot, dodging Spot’s aim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spot’s tongue was wedged between his teeth and bottom lip, his finger dangerously close to pulling the nozzle. In the moment, his finger slipped, a stream of water heading in Race’s direction. The water barely hit his chest when Race held the spot dramatically. “I’ve been shot, Spottie . . .”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Falling to the floor, Race gasped for breath as he sprawled out on the kitchen floor. With a final sigh, he dramatically closed his eyes and laid perfectly still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spot couldn’t help but chuckle at him, dropping to his knees, running a hand through Race’s hair. “You’re going to be alright, Racer. It’s just a small cut.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes popped open. “SPOTTIE!!! You can’t play along for once in your life?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope. Besides, there’s something I want to do. Come on.” Offering him a hand, Race immediately clasped his hand in Spot’s, allowing himself to be pulled up from the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing the mini speaker, Spot walked into the living room, pulling his phone out of his sweats’ pocket.  Tapping a few things on the screen, Spot nodded before slipping the phone back into his pocket, facing Race, before dipping into a bow. “May I have this dance, dear sir?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Race’s eyes went wide as he slipped his hand into Spot’s. “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We haven’t done in this in a while and I thought with just the tree illuminating the room, it would be utterly romantic and you’d love it.” Spot grinned, pulling Race close to him as they started slow dancing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spot looked up at Race, the colorful lights of the tree reflecting off his glasses and tousled hair. Titling his head up slightly, he welcomed the kiss from Race as they continued to dance. “Wait . . . is this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was wondering when you’d notice.” Spot grinned. The song that was playing was “Can’t Help Falling In Love” by Ingrid Michaelson, the song they first danced to as husbands. “I was feeling sentimental today, especially when this played at work.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Race grinned, kissing him once more. “You’re a sap, Sean, but you’re my sap and I wouldn’t change that for the world. I love you Spottie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you too Racer.” Spot said, leaning forward so that his head rested on Race’s chest, letting him lead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They continued to sway slowly around the living room, even as the song changed to “Love Me Tender” by Norah Jones. Race sighed, pressing a kiss to the side of Spot’s head. “This was the song that was playing when I knew I wanted to marry you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spot picked up his head, raising an eyebrow in Spot’s direction. “You realized you wanted to marry me while watching Princess Diaries 2?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have you know that it’s a very romantic movie.” Race defended, grinning. “We were curled up on the couch and alI I could think about was if this is my life for the rest of time, then I’d be okay with that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spot grinned. “So why didn’t you ask me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you beat me to the punch.” Race argued. “Actually, I had the ring and everything . . . just had it planned a week later than you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spot titled his head, accepting the kiss from Race. “Awww, I’m actually not sorry that I stole your thunder. My proposal was amazing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Race nodded, grinning. “It really was. And I’m actually glad you proposed . . . I was a nervous wreck whether you were going to say yes. But when you asked, I didn’t even have to think.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was the nervous wreck.” Spot argued, his eyes lit up at the thought. “But as soon as I saw you, I knew I didn’t have to worry about you saying no.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The song changed again, Spot moving his arms to rest on Race’s shoulders as they continued their slow dancing. They both fell quiet, just enjoying the soft music and the ambience surrounding them. “Love you, Spottie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you too Racer.” Putting his head on Race’s chest, he listened to his heartbeat and sighed happily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they twirled around, Spot smiled. There was no other place he’d rather be, cozied up to Race, slow dancing the night away. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Feedback would be absolutely amazing and wonderful!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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